


So Kiss Me

by embro



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Harry doesn't really like football, Kiss cam, Louis plays it for a living, M/M, accompanying Louis to a football award ceremony, also never forget that i am lame and the ending is lame, and has like a tiny hint of sugar daddy louis because who doesnt love that, harry is blushy, its just short, liam is a protective mother hen, louis is a flirt, so kissing obviously, the sequel has harry as a WAG, they still get along just fine, zayn and niall just laugh a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:01:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embro/pseuds/embro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's stuck in the football stands alone and falls a bit in love with Louis, the little-too-forward boy who's sat beside him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because of this:  
> http://haveagoodshowtonightbabycakes.tumblr.com/post/67036019637/it-looks-like-theyre-at-a-game-and-just-noticed  
> (and because I promised some of my tumblr homegurls that I would)
> 
> Also I am probably the least qualified person to write a kiss cam au because I've never even been to a game that has kiss cams and i highly doubt there are kiss cams at football games (the english/ european kind of football) so expect 0% accuracy :)
> 
> and tumblr is embrofic come be my matey
> 
> xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Harry hadn’t been to a football game since he was eight, and everything looked a whole lot different from a few feet higher. Like, he could actually see what was happening out on the field without help from the giant screens above the goal nets. He could see over people’s heads, and didn’t feel like he was stuck in a never-ending maze of bodies. He even had a bit more knowledge of the game, and was getting a little excited just watching the players warm up on the field.

Even then, he’d enjoyed himself a lot more as a kid. For starters, he’d been wrapped up in about a million layers of material so couldn’t feel the biting chill of November anywhere but his face. Now, he was dressed in a button-down, so thin it was translucent (which, yeah, was _kind of_ deliberate), and a blazer. His jeans were thin and littered with tears, so the warmest part of himself would have to be his feet, protected by thick woolly socks and some nice fancy boots.

Though, in all fairness, he hadn’t been expecting to be sat in the stands with thousands of other cold spectators. He’d been promised box seats. 

“Excuse me mate, mind moving your legs for a sec.” a voice interrupted his self-pitying thoughts, and Harry looked up to see the culprit. 

He cleared his throat and stood up, trying to press himself as far back as he could to let the pretty man pass. He was a few good inches shorter and was dressed in not much more than a Joy Division shirt, but Harry still felt extreme heat when the guy grazed past him. It made Harry jump, which made the guy spill beer from the plastic cup in his hands. “Sorry.” Harry grumbled, and the guy looked back at him. 

His face dropped from outrage to something blank and undecipherable, so Harry smiled sheepishly at him. It made the guy smile back and drop down into the seat beside him. “No harm meant and all that.” 

“Oi Louis, move down a few will you?” an Irish-accented someone asked before pushing past Harry and stopping between his and the pretty guy’s legs. 

The pretty guy, or Louis Harry could now assume, grinned up at the blonde. “Just shuffle past me. I got a good view from here.” 

“Fine.” The blonde grunted, and pushed past Louis’ legs and sat a few seats down. Then a few more guys passed with muttered apologies, and Harry could finally sit. 

He studied them for a moment, taking in their big coats and scarves and beanies, then let his eyes drift back to Louis. “Where’s your coat?” he’d asked, and felt like a bit of an idiot when Louis looked at him with a grin. 

“You can talk. Can’t say I’ve ever seen a boy in a mesh shirt at a game before.” 

Harry’s face heated and he looked down at himself with a small frown. “It does look a bit stupid, doesn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Louis said, and Harry looked up at him with hopeful wide eyes. “I mean, it is pretty stupid to dress like that this close to winter, but it sure doesn’t look stupid. I think you forgot to do your shirt up all the way, though.” 

“Some of the buttons got torn off when I was - ”

“That’s all I need to hear, mate.” Louis chuckled, and Harry frowned small and went to ask what that meant but Louis was turning away to talk to the boy beside him. 

He only had a few moments to feel disappointed, that he never got an answer to his question _and_ that he no longer had Pretty’s attention, because Louis was standing up to stretch his arms high above his head. His shirt was pulling up and Harry could see bare tanned skin and that was all he needed, really, to know that he’d found The One. 

“Are you here by yourself?” Harry heard, and tore his eyes away from Louis’ stomach to peek past him. There was a guy looking back at him expectantly, with short brown hair and nice brown eyes, and Harry figured he was the one that spoke.

“I guess so.”

“You can talk to us then if you like.” The guy offered with a big smile, and he had the kind of face that would break your heart if he got crushed, so Harry nodded. 

“What do you mean, you guess so?” Louis asked, pinching up his face like he was utterly revolted. It was a vast overreaction, but it suited him. 

It still made Harry cringe though, and feel incredibly stupid. “I was invited by my boss so I figured that meant box seats, but it didn’t. It means he’s up there with my colleagues and I’m down here. It’s also why I’m dressed like this.” 

“What a prick.” Louis grunted, and Harry grinned.

“I don’t mind. I’m not the only one who he did that to, so at least I won’t be laughed at on Monday when I go in.”

“Still, that’s pretty shitty. Though I got to say, interesting choice of outfit to impress your boss. You trying to shag him or something?” 

Harry choked on his tongue and gasped out a horrified “No” that had Louis laughing into his hand. His eyes were crinkled up and his shoulders were bobbing up and down, and Harry was just about ready to fling himself off the stadium. “I’m – I just wanted to look nice. I didn’t – it’s not, like, sexy or something.” 

“Don’t worry, Louis’ just messing.” The friendly boy from before said, then stuck out his hand and introduced himself as Liam. “That’s Niall, and this is Zayn.” 

“Hey.” Zayn said, and Harry’s eyes got stuck on his jaw. It was immaculate. 

“Stop teasing.” Harry heard Liam mutter to Louis, and Louis just shrugged. 

“He likes it, I can tell.” He muttered back, and Harry blushed pink. 

And watched Louis take a gulp of beer, and admired the way his throat worked. “So, you never told me why you’re dressed like that.” He spluttered out when Louis stopped drinking. 

The boy looked back at him and pinched his face together. “Like what?” 

“Like, without a coat? You’re only in a shirt. At least I’ve got my blazer.”

“I run pretty hot.” Louis said in what had to be the most sincere voice he could muster up. 

But he’d been lying, of course. Niall and Zayn both started to laugh, but Liam knocked into Louis with his shoulder and said “He’s trying to win a bet. Something stupid, I don’t even think there’s anything to win at the end of it.”

“The honour of winning is enough for me, Liam.” 

“What was the bet?” 

“I told my mate to man up, that it wasn’t that cold, so he said I wouldn’t be able to sit through this game without a coat. I, of course, said I could.” Louis explained with hands flying about in front of him, almost hitting Harry in the jaw. 

“Is that it?” 

Louis blinked at him, like he’d asked an incredibly stupid question. “Yeah.” He replied slowly, too, like he thought Harry was thick. Harry _really_ wasn’t making a great impression. 

He was about to defend himself when Louis turned back to Liam, and told him something about one of the players that prompted a heavy football-centred conversation, and Harry was left sitting feeling sorry for himself. Again. 

They’d chatted like that for ages, so Harry snuck off to grab a couple of drinks for himself and take a piss in time to watch kick-off. When he’d settled back down, Louis took a beer from his hands with a muttered “Thanks”. He’d turned back to Liam, too, so Harry was left one drink down and alone. 

“Louis, that wasn’t for you.” Liam growled, and sent Harry an apologetic smile. 

“Yes it was, wasn’t it Harry?”

Harry was about to reply with a _No_ but Louis actually turned to look at him properly this time, cheeky grin splitting his face, so Harry simply nodded and choked out “You’re going to get the next round though, yeah?”

Louis grinned wider and took a large sip from his plastic cup. “Probably not.” 

“Well that’s not fair.” Harry pouted, and Louis rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Life isn’t fair, Harold. Now be quiet, I need to see what’s going on.” 

Harry was ready to retort with something just as witty, but Louis was standing up to see over the heads of the people in front of him.

Harry tore his eyes away from Louis’ ass to watch the game before him. It got a bit boring after a while, what with it being people kicking about a ball and not actually scoring any goals, so Harry’s eyes naturally found their way back to Louis. 

His eyes were sharp, flicking about quickly, following the ball and the players. He’d occasionally shout out things like “Bullshit!” and “Fucking fuck!” and Harry wasn’t one to get turned on by cursing, but Louis’ voice made even those words sound so pretty. 

Then Louis’ eyes suddenly flitted down to look at Harry, and he started to smile, and Harry looked away as quick as he could because he’d just been caught staring like a fucking creep. 

Louis looked back out at the field, mouth twisting up like he was contemplating something momentous, before he dropped back into his seat.

“Do you not like football Harry?”

“What?”

“You just don’t seem to be watching the game much, I’ve noticed.” Louis smirked, and any hope Harry had left that he’d been subtle drained away. 

“I guess I just don’t pay much attention to it in general.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I don’t _not_ like it. I just don’t really watch it.” 

“There goes Louis’ dreams of you as his WAG.” Zayn grunted, and Louis turned away from Harry to reprimand his friend before turning back. 

“What do you mean?” Harry asked quick, before Louis could say something too mean. 

“Louis’ a footballer. Like, a proper one. Plays professionally.”

“And they were insinuating that I want you to be my girlfriend.” Louis added, and punched Zayn in the leg. 

“I wouldn’t mind that.”

He hadn’t realised he’d said it out loud until he had four pairs of eyes on him, all blinking slowly. Louis’ cheeks were going pink, but they couldn’t have been darker then Harry’s. His whole face was burning up. 

Then Louis was standing up and plopping himself down in Harry’s lap. 

Harry grunted at the sudden weight of the boy, then when it all hit him he said “What?”

He could practically hear Louis rolling his eyes. “You’re not even watching the game, and I can’t see from where I’m sitting, so it would only make sense that I sit on you to see. You get my ass on your thighs, so it’s all win-win.”

Harry looked over to Louis’ friends, who were all grinning. Except for Liam, of course. He was a proper concerned parent. “Sorry, he’s very forward.”

“I don’t mind.” Harry said, a little too quickly, and watched Louis’ shoulders bop as he laughed. “You’re like one of those electric blankets. Keeping me warm and things.”

“And things?”

“No, it’s just – “

“Hush, Harold, I’m just playing. Now shut up so I can watch the game.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

Harry shuffled back a bit, and pushed Louis an inch or two forward. Louis grunted in protest and shuffled back again, creating friction that Harry _really_ didn’t need. So he pushed Louis forward again and Louis hissed “Quit moving” and shuffled back, only this time he fell into Harry so his back was on his chest and his head was on his shoulder and all Harry could breathe was Louis. “You’re even less comfortable then the seats on the stands.” 

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Shut _up_.” Louis groaned, and Harry just nodded in reply this time. 

Louis’ new position meant he could at least see what was happening on the field, giving him a distraction so he wouldn’t do something creepy like sink his top teeth into Louis’ neck. 

But the game was _still_ just people kicking that ball about and tripping over and pretending to cry, so naturally his eyes found Louis’ hair. It looked so soft, and like it would smell quite nice, so Harry leant forward a little to get a good whiff without being noticed. 

Louis shifted and Harry stiffened, and he heard Louis chuckle. “What are you doing back there?” 

“Nothing.” He answered quickly, and Louis just shook his head. 

Then grabbed Harry’s hands and wrapped them around his waist. “I’m cold too.” He explained. 

“Fucking hell, get a room.” Zayn grunted in a voice loud enough for everyone in a mile radius to hear. 

“Maybe we will.” Louis sing-songed back, and again Harry stiffened. “Calm it down, I was joking.”

“Is – I mean, it’s okay if we do. With me, I mean. It’s okay with me if we do.” 

Louis just shook his head and laughed, and Harry was left feeling somewhat desperate for a response from the other boy that didn’t make him feel like an absolute twat. 

 

It felt like hours before the half-time siren sounded, and when it did Harry frowned because Louis was standing up. “Who wants a beer?” 

“You know I’m driving.” Liam tutted, and the other two boys just held up their half-full cups. 

“Alright. Harry?”

“No thank you.”

“You can come with me then.” 

“But why? You’ve only got to get the one cup, I won’t have anything to hold.” 

Louis rolled his eyes and pulled at Harry’s arm until he stood. Then he knocked Harry’s hip with his own and said “You’ll have me. Now come on.”

Louis slipped his hand into Harry’s and dragged him through the crowd, but even when they’d stopped moving to join a line Louis didn’t let go. 

“Are you enjoying yourself, then?” 

“Yeah.” Harry replied without hesitancy, and Louis must have liked his answer because he smiled sweetly. “Are you?” 

“I am, yeah. The game’s a bit shit though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. No one’s scoring, everyone’s faking injuries. That sort of stuff just doesn’t make entertaining football. I don’t want to watch guys writhing around on the ground, clutching their ankles and asking for penalty kicks.”

“Yeah.” Harry agreed, nodding like he had even the slightest inkling of what Louis was talking about. Really, he’d seen more of the back of Louis’ head and the line of his jaw and the edges of his cheekbones then any kind of feet connecting with balls. 

When they’d finally got to the front of the queue, Louis let go of Harry’s hands to rest his elbows on the bar. “Just a beer. You sure you don’t want anything?” 

Harry looked at everything behind the bar and in a panic said the first thing he’d seen. “An orange.”

Louis blinked. “An orange?”

“Yeah. Yes please.” 

Louis turned back to the barman and said “You heard the boy” and just glared at the man until he grabbed Harry his fruit. 

When they’d got out of the crowd, Louis holding his beer carefully with one hand and gripping onto Harry’s bicep with the other, Harry was smiling so wide his cheeks were aching. 

“You’re an odd one, Harry. I’ll give you that.” 

“Sorry.”

“Oh, just shut it already.” Louis grunted back. He was grinning, though, so Harry didn’t feel too idiotic.

They’d made it back to their seats with a few minutes of half time left, and Harry wasn’t left feeling disappointed that Louis was back in his own seat for long because soon everyone around them started cheering and whistling. 

“What’s going on?” Louis asked with a grin, looking at the people behind them and in front of them, and then at Harry for some information. 

Harry shrugged, then looked behind him because someone was tapping his shoulder. The someone was a woman who was pointing out in front of him, and he heard Louis mutter “Oh” before he looked out towards the field. Then up a little higher, because on the screen above a goal net was he and Louis’ faces. Framed by a pink glittery love heart. Above the words _kiss cam_. 

His face split into a smile and he blurted out a laugh before he looked over to Louis, who was grinning too. But then he realised what it meant, that everyone was shouting for them to kiss, and his stomach dropped.

Only for a second, because Louis’ smile directed itself at him and his lips were moving to say “How ‘bout it?” 

“Okay.” Harry spluttered, and Louis leaned forward so he was an inch away from Harry’s lips. Then his hand was in his hair and his lips were against his. 

Harry felt frozen, with Louis’ warm lips against his dry ones. It was only for a second too, because Louis was pulling back with a small frown. The crowd booed at them, and the lady behind them screeched “Go for it!” in an alarmingly enthusiastic voice. 

Louis looked hurt, and managed to get out “I thought you-“ before Harry was leaning back in to give it another go. A go that didn’t involve him being too afraid to move, hopefully. 

Louis’ lips were just as warm, only this time they were slightly parted in surprise, so Harry pushed them further apart with his own lips. He tilted his head and put his hand in Louis fluffy hair and smiled into the kiss when he felt Louis’ tongue tentative at the inside of his bottom lip. 

The crowd was roaring around them, and Zayn was shouting “Get it in!” Liam was chastising him and Niall was giggling uncontrollably and Louis was smiling. Smiling against his lips, like maybe he felt it too. How perfect it all was, how well they fit, and how very likely it was that they’d be getting that room before the game even finished.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m not wearing that.” Harry said with cocked hips and a high brow and eyes that bore into the shirt Louis was holding up like he was trying to set it on fire. Which, yeah, he kind of was. It was a fucking Ralph Lauren polo though, and the only way Harry would ever be seen in one was if he was dressed by an undertaker. 

Louis did that little pout that usually had Harry weak at the knees before he dropped it back onto the table. “You’re going to wear something a bit normal tonight, yeah?”

Harry kicked Louis in the shin, not too hard because his legs _were_ the money makers, and kept walking until he was in the more decent bit of Selfridges. He picked out a Ted Baker tux and shoved it in Louis’ face. “This normal enough for you?” 

“I just meant that like, you can’t wear a scarf around your head to the Football League Awards. It’s a proper suit and tie thing.” 

Harry would have been a lot less forgiving if he wasn’t painfully aware of how nervous Louis was about it. Still, he had to ask, as he picked at the hem of a teal shirt worn by a mannequin, “Do you not like my headscarves?” 

Louis grinned and reached up to kiss Harry on his jaw. “Of course I do.” Then he gripped on to Harry’s hand and pulled him out towards the escalator. “I’m just worried because I’ve seen what your idea of _dressing nice_ is.”

It had been three months already, but Louis still hadn’t let him forget it. “I only wore that shirt one time! I’m an intern at fucking GQ, I was trying to stand out!” 

“Wasn’t worth freezing your balls off over, was it?” Louis put his hand on the small of Harry’s back to guide him off the escalator and round to the next one, having learnt the hard way that if he didn’t Harry would most certainly have forgotten to step off it and be flat on his face. “Actually, maybe you should wear that mesh shirt tonight. Might be interesting, seeing the looks on the others guys’ faces when they realise I’ve got the hottest date.” 

Harry burned up bright red. “You’re a twat.”

“I know.” Louis grinned, and pulled Harry through the swarms of people until they made it to Marylebone High Street. “Lucky I can afford your love, yeah?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Funny that I went home with you even when you were dressed like a sixteen year old skater boy.”

“What do you mean, _when_? I still dress like that.” Louis laughed, and Harry smiled slow and knocked his hip into Louis’. 

“What store next?” 

“Dunno. I’d rather go home, to be honest. You want to go home?”

“I still haven’t bought anything for tonight.” 

Louis shrugged and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “You’ve got loads of nice stuff already. Or do you want to get something new?”

Harry shook his head quick and peered over Louis’ shoulder to look at the screen. He was scrolling through a map, probably trying to find the closest Tube Station, so Harry put his chin on Louis’ shoulder and muttered into his ear “I’d much rather you fuck me.” And maybe Louis was a little quicker in his search for the fastest way home. 

\---

Harry still felt a bit odd around Louis’ football team, even though they’d all been nothing but nice. It was just that they were all so big and muscular and had this strange way of talking that Harry couldn’t get the hang of so when he was with them all, he’d just be moping about in the background. He much preferred to talk to their girlfriends and wives, and while the WAG joke was getting a bit old, it was still true; Harry was one of them. He’d come to the realisation when he was asked out to a _girl’s night_ by a platinum blonde whose name Harry always forgot. He even enjoyed himself, talking about sex and gossiping and discussing football with people who knew as little about it as him. 

He went to all of Louis’ games and cheered him on from the sidelines. He went to training too when Louis asked, and to the few events Louis was invited to. He liked having somewhere to go that he could dress up for, some _one_ to dress up for and make proud and support. 

Which is what Louis really needed sometimes, his support. Like now, when they were sitting in a hall with some of his teammates and their plus-ones, listening to radio commentators and football stars announcing the Football League Awards. Somewhere in the room were six others who were nominated for Player of the Year alongside Louis, and while the boy was hiding it well, Harry knew he was nervous.

Louis’ leg was bobbing against his own, so Harry put his hand on his thigh to calm him. Louis smiled wide at him, showing too many teeth to be genuine, so Harry kissed his lips until they were honest. Louis put his hand on top of Harry’s and squeezed it lightly, so Harry turned his palm up and opened his fingers to clench Louis’ hand in his own. Louis nuzzled into Harry’s neck and muttered “I think I’m going to shit myself” and Harry barked out a laugh loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

He shied back into his seat when he was sent dirty looks, having interrupted some speech with his guffawing. “Sorry.” He muttered, but the others at their table just smiled. They were all on Louis’ team, so already knew what the two of them were like; how they were in their own little bubble and how high they jumped whenever it got popped. 

Harry felt his neck heat up with all of that attention, so he sat up a little straighter and pinched up his face a bit so he at least _looked_ like he was listening to what was happening on stage. It was going to be hard to actually listen because the man speaking had a deep rumbly voice that was made for meditation CDs. From what Harry could pick up, he was introducing the nominees for Football Club of the Year. When it was announced that Cardiff won, a corner of the room filled with cheers and everyone else in the room clapped politely as they watched the captain of the Club approach the stage. 

Harry took the opportunity to whisper to Louis “How are you feeling now?”

“Like I want a drink.”

“You can have some of my beer if you want?”

Louis smiled rather gravely and squeezed Harry’s hand. “I’m playing tomorrow, remember?”

“Oh right.” Harry nodded, and waited until the clapping started up again to add “Is that why we aren’t going to the after party?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t mean we can’t have a little after party of our own.” Louis wiggled his eyebrows and Harry remembered to cover his mouth this time _before_ he laughed. 

Low mutterings filled the room, and before Harry could ask what was going on the man across the table from them said “Commercial break. Get all your lovey dovey shit out of the way now.” His name was Marcus, and he was a big guy with a low gravelly voice but he was smiling when he said it. “How’s your internship going Harry?”

Harry blushed like he always did when he felt intimidated, but managed to say “Uh, it’s good. Umm, s-still not doing much more then picking up mail and getting everyone’s lunches.”

“You want to be a fashion journalist yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s going to be a great one.” Louis answered for him, and Harry jolted up when he felt Louis’ fingers dip down to the inseam of his jeans, stroking the crevice between his thigh and hipbone. 

“T-thanks.” Harry muttered, and Marcus turned back to say something to his date.

Harry felt Louis’ lips at his ear, and hot breath on his neck, before Louis said “You know I like to be the only one to make you stutter.”

Harry put his hand on top of Louis’ where it was palming him through his jeans and tugged it off. “Fucking hell Louis. Wait a bit, yeah?” 

Louis grinned, but left his hand on his thigh where Harry had put it. Not that he had any other option, really; Harry was holding it there tight. He couldn’t really trust Louis to let it go, because the older lad was friskiest when he was nervous. Harry figured it had something to do with confusing impatience for sexual frustration. 

“How much longer do I have to wait?” he whined, and Harry felt fingers twitch beneath his.

“Til we get home. They’ll be announcing your award any minute now.” Harry had to whisper it low because there was another old guy speaking about the Best Manager nominees. He let go of Louis’ hand to rub circles into the small of his back, which was a big mistake because Louis was reaching out to grab at Harry’s thighs again. 

“Have I told you how much I love you in these jeans?” he groaned hotly into Harry’s ear, and Harry’s whole neck tingled. “And your shirt, I fucking love this shirt.” 

Harry swallowed back his moan, and tried to ignore Louis’ lips at his throat and the hand on his crotch so no one would cotton on to what they were doing. And like, to get Louis to stop. Maybe. 

“Can’t wait to get you out of this jacket, babe.” 

Harry was already bright red, he could feel it in the heat of his cheeks, so really everyone must already know what they were doing by now. If they didn’t, they were fucking idiots and deserved the shock of what was about to happen next. That’s how he reasoned gripping on to Louis’ hip and crashing their mouths together, anyway. 

And it’s how they were caught when Louis was announced the Player of the Year, with their tongues lost in the other’s mouth and their fingers tangled in the other’s hair. Harry pulled back with a whimper and Louis blinked his eyes slow, and the shocked silence that permeated the air was broken by Marcus, whose laugh boomed so loud it bounced against the walls and whose hands sounded more like thunder when they clapped together. 

“Christ.” Louis muttered over the others who’d joined in, and pushed himself up out of his chair to collect his award from a frowning football legend. 

Harry was feeling too proud to be embarrassed, and beamed up at Louis where he was behind a microphone. The room was still filled with claps, and Louis had to shush them all before he could get a word out. 

His speech was short and direct, and he thanked his teammates and his coach and his fans, and his Mum and sisters and best mates. Then he said “Lastly, I’d like to thank the game itself. Without it I wouldn’t have found Harry” and Harry would swear his heart exploded in his chest when Louis sent him his widest smile and a cheeky wink. 

Harry stood when Louis got back to his seat, hugging him tight and muttering “Twat” right into his ear. 

“Love you too pal.” Louis whispered back, and grabbed Harry with his left hand, far more valuable a trophy then the one in his right, desperate to get back to their hotel room.

\---

 

Harry had never seen Louis play like this. He was unstoppable on the field, running back and forth, eyes never leaving the ball. Except, of course, to check that Harry was still watching him. Like how a kid would to make sure their parents were there to see how high they could push themselves on the swing. 

It was making Harry grin painfully wide, those little reminders, that the most beautiful thing on that field was all his. He also had the slight ache in his ass from the night before to remind him, but it was nice to _see_ it too. The way Louis smiled after he passed the ball to a teammate, peeking up at Harry from the fringe sticking to his forehead. How he would fall and get right back up, only to send Harry a little thumbs up to show he was alright. 

How, when he scored a goal, he ran passed all his teammates to get to where Harry was standing on the sidelines with the rest of his friends, and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. He pulled Harry’s hat off his head and bit his jaw and surged up on his toes to get at Harry’s lips. 

Louis smelt like wet grass and sweat, and his ears were buzzing from how loud the audience were roaring. Louis was breathless and panting into Harry’s mouth and the kiss should be far from perfect but that’s exactly what it was. So perfect Harry wished they could kiss like that forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No but guys. _Imagine._
> 
>  

**Author's Note:**

> I remade on [Tumblr ](http://harryventura.tumblr.com)


End file.
